Thom Browne

Thom Browne loves the old red, white, and blue in his own deeply twisted way. The designer closed his show with The Star-Spangled Banner, but it was Jimi Hendrix's cliché-bombing live version that he opted for. That seemed only appropriate, after a presentation that exploded the masculine certitudes of patrician Americana. Browne's shows have transcended mere menswear manifesto to become pieces of surreal performance artat least, that's one way to interpret a finale composed of a "bride" demurely toting his train of tricolored rosettes down the catwalk with a retinue of lifeguard "bridesmaids" in attendance. Such flourishesthere was also a sixties surfer-dude thing going on, though more as styling cue than thematic undercurrentensured the presentation was reminiscent of some of Rei Kawakubo's more provocative propositions in the past. Just like Kawakubo, Browne has yet to encounter a rule he didn't fancy breaking. Hence, proportions so skewed they were positively bizarre. The key word was "short." Suit jackets had sleeves that ended mid-bicep, and shorts were essentially hot pants.

It's Browne's peculiar achievement that such indulgences don't compromise the "maleness" of his men. Even when they were wrapped Lana Tunerlike in big fluffy towels, they were still butchweird, but butch. That's why his sensibility has infiltrated the menswear mainstream. As far as Trojan horses go, it was easy to imagine this collection's overload on plaid tickling a few fancies. Like a plaid suit covered by a coat in a lacquered version of the same pattern, or a suit, shirt, and tie all matching. Men who have adjusted to the Browne crop will find it in a more generous, fuller-legged, wider-cuffed version for spring.

But that's commerce. It's inevitably more intriguing to speculate on the implications of shirtsleeves extended and knotted straitjacket-style at the back, or suits bulked up to Sasquatch proportions with rosettes. Browne's men are undoubtedly men, but they're not moving as easily in the modern world.